Numair's Secret
by Brindle
Summary: Daine is pregnant with her first babyby Numair. Numair has confined her to the palace, in worry that harm will come to her or the baby. Daine has nagging thoughts: Why won't her let her leave the palace, and why is he so exhausted all the time? Note: I am
1. Stable Scene

**Disclaimer: All of the characters in this story (except for Olin. He's mine.) are the property of the great Tamora Pierce. I just add in the plot line**.

Daine lay still, her eyes closed, the thick darkness covering her like a warm blanket. She breathed in slowly, trying to still her pounding heart. Only a few more minutes . . . then he should come. She fidgeted, twining her slender fingers in the covers. At a sudden thought, Daine sat up and ran her fingers through her smoky brown curls, taking extra care to make them messy, like she had been tossing and turning in her sleep. Lying back slowly, she heard a meow of protest from one of the three cats that shared her bed. She had asked them to come and pretend to be asleep in her warm bed, since she usually slept with several animals and the man she waited for would know something was amiss if no animals were with her. The cats had cheerfully obliged, happy to find a place warmer to sleep then the drafty corners of the castle.

Sorry, Mino, Daine said to the black-and-white cat who she had annoyed.

Well, just be careful that you don't squash me, the tomcat answered grumpily, then stretched and turned over.

Smiling softly, Daine settled back on the pillows and drew the many covers around her. She suddenly froze as footsteps sounded outside her door. Turning over so that she could see who entered, Daine closed her eyes, then opened them a bit. Her long lashes would veil the fact that she could see him as he entered.

The door opened. A tall man entered, yawning and running big hands through his long black hair. The light from the hallway shown around his outline, throwing his face into dark relief, but Daine knew that it was her husband and former-teacher, Numair. Her heart swelled with love for him, and she thought of the being within her that he had helped give life to . . .

Numair, one of the most powerful mages in Tortall, didn't look very powerful now. His face was pale, and he had smudges under his eyes from many nights spent up studying. His long, now tousled black hair tumbled around his face. He opened the door so that more light would come in, and glanced at Daine. She resisted the urge to smile, and silently reminded the cats to stay still.

Apparently thinking that she was asleep, Numair shut the door, latched it, and went to the chest of drawers that stood against the far wall. Daine watched him as he changed for bed, his back to her, noticing how his hands shook with fatigue, and how he kept stifling a big yawn. She almost backed down from what she was going to do that night, but she had to get out. It would be a relief—she felt guilty thinking this—to get away from all of the worried attention that Numair showered upon her during the day.

Finally finished dressing, Numair walked around the bed and climbed in on the opposite side from Daine. She lay still a few more moments, then, checking to see that he was asleep, slowly and silently got out from under the covers and pulled her boots on, thankful that the life with in her had decided to stay human that night.

Daine made her way to the door, crouching as she inched her way along the ground, her process hampered by the large weight in her belly. Making sure that when the door opened, the light wouldn't hit her love's sleeping face, Daine slipped out into the hall and shut the door as quietly as she could. Tiptoeing along the corridor, and hoping that the being within her wouldn't wake up and start to shape shift, she made her way to the end of their hall. Reaching the corner, Daine gathered the cloak around her and rushed through the palace, making as little noise as possible.

She finally pushed open another door and rushed outside, the cold night air quickly waking her up. It felt nice and refreshing to be outside. She had been confined to the palace for days, and it was starting to stifle her. Of course, she appreciated Numair's worry (he was her husband, after all), but she needed a break. Daine walked through the courtyard and approached a low building. Horse voices, sensing her approach, called out in greeting. Daine heard one jubilant voice in particular. Reaching the double doors that now stood open, her way was stopped by a solid man with hair the color of straw.

"'Ello Daine. No use guessin' why you're here, eh?"

Daine sent him a little smile, "No use at all, Stefan. I'm here to see Cloud."

The hostler smiled back at her, his eyes twinkling, "That mare's been missin' yeh ever since that mage o' yours confined y' to the palace. He finally let yeh out? An' in the middle of the night too."

The girl's sheepish grin told the hostler everything. He stepped aside, holding the door open. "Go on. I'll cover for yeh if anyone comes askin'." He winked at her.

Daine grinned at him, "Thanks Stefan." He waved a hand in her direction, turning to close the doors, and she walked into the stables. Touching the muzzles of each horse she passed and giving them a greeting in return for their friendly whinny, she finally reached the stall of a small, steel gray pony. The mare nickered with pleasure as Daine rubbed her nose.

Finally you came to visit, the mare snorted grumpily, I almost thought you abandoned me for that stork-man.

Daine grinned at the use of her animal friends' nickname for Numair. Really, Cloud, do think I would ever abandon you? He had me confined to the palace.

The mare blew in her face. What, in fear that you'll hurt yourself and that baby? Horses are smart, we never stick with stallions long enough that they start pushing us around.

Daine blushed, pulling bits of hay out of Cloud's mane. He's not pushing me around. He's just worried about me.

Worried enough to force you to stay in that stone stable? "Stone stable" was Cloud's name for the castle.

Worried for me and the baby, Daine defended her love. She suddenly rushed forward, buried her face in Cloud's mane, and threw her arms around the pony's neck. Oh Cloud, I missed you so much!

The mare lipped her hair. I know, I know. Mindful of that foal you're carrying, or else I won't have anything to hammer horse sense into. Humans, always tampering with nature's course . . . can't let go and let a colt grow up on his own . . .

Daine laughed and rubbed her swollen belly affectionately.

The stork-man's here, Cloud announced suddenly, and he doesn't seem too happy. You'd better go check . . .

But Daine was already hurrying down the aisle, having heard shouts at the entrance. She rounded a corner, and the fear in the horses' voices slammed into her. They clamored in her mind, wanting to know why the stork-man was so angry. Daine sent a calming thought to every mount she passed as she hurried to the front door, worry written on her pale face.

The first thing she saw when she reached the entrance was Stefan pressed against the wall, covered in sweat, gasping for breath. His eyes, wide with fear, were fixed on something that Daine couldn't see. Quietly, she glanced around the corner that had blocked her vision, and froze.

Numair stood there, feet braced, black and white fire crackling around his hands. His face was livid, and the air bent visibly where it touched him. He seemed to tower over everything around him. The only other times she had seen him this angry was when he had tried to fight a dragon, and when Perin the clerk had tried to bed her.

Her love raised a hand menacingly. "Tell me where she is," he growled. Daine shivered at the steel in his voice. Black and white fire gathered in his outstretched palm. "Tell me!"

When Stefan remained silent, he whispered a word, and magic leapt toward the smaller man. Without thinking, Daine rushed into its path. She couldn't let Numair kill the hostler.

"No!" a voice shouted. At first Daine thought that it was she who had cried out, but one glance at Numair told her. His outstretched hand was now clenched in a fist, and he stared at her, his eyes wide, paler than a sheet. His breath came in heavy gasps. She had never seen him this worried or shocked. Troubled, she hesitantly said, "Numair-"

He gasped and flew across the space between them. His arms enveloped her in a very tight hug. He drew back and stared at her, hands gripping hers. "Daine . . ." he gasped, "I could have killed you . . ."

"You were going to kill Stefan," Daine said accusingly, though she felt guilty for berating him. He had been so tired lately.

"He wouldn't tell me where you were!" Numair shot back sharply, eyes flashing.

"So what! That doesn't give you an excuse to throw magic at him!" She fell silent as he gently brushed hair out of her eyes.

"Daine . . ." he whispered, his breath warm on her face. "I just . . . I don't want anything to happen to you-"

"Is that why you've confined me to the palace?" she snapped, her pent-up anger suddenly fizzling to the surface. "I've faced danger before, Numair, and you've never reacted like this! And anyway, dangerous things-"

She stopped as she felt his hand caress her swollen belly. Her eyes suddenly lit with understanding. "Numair," she continued, much quieter now, "Do you really think that I would let our baby get hurt?" Her eyes raced over his pale face, reading the exhaustion and worry in his dark gaze.

He pulled her close again. "Oh, Daine," he said in barely a whisper. "I just . . . I've never been a father before, and with all of the danger that we've faced . . . babies are so fragile."

"But this one has me as a mother," she murmured into his ear. She drew back slightly, then pressed her lips to his. As always when she kissed him, fire raced through her body, making her want to melt in his arms. He tipped her head back with a gentle hand, deepening the angle of the kiss.

He went to step closer to her, but her belly bulged in the way. Daine drew back, though her heart cried out with longing as his warm lips left hers. She smiled up at him, and he pulled her closer, eyes grave.

"Let's get you back to bed." His lips tickled her ear.

She nodded into his chest, and looked up. "Though you might want to apologize to Stefan first," she suggested, seeing that the hostler had left the corner where he had been cowering.

"Where-" Numair began, but Daine was already throwing her magic out over the stable, asking the horses if they knew where their other friend was. An answer chimed in her mind from a stall in a corridor near them, and Daine gently detangled herself from Numair and started down the passageway, keeping hold of his hand.

As they went, horse's heads came over the stall doors, calling out in greeting. Daine silently answered each of them, and apologized for not being able to visit longer.

They finally came up to the stall of the horse who had answered Diane's question. She was a small gleaming bay, with a bright white stripe running down her nose. Stefan was gently stroking her side, his face turned away from them. The mare berated Daine, What did you do to him? I've never seen him this frightened!

Daine, who knew that Stefan had wild magic with horse's just as she did, patiently explained, Calm, hoof-sister. The stork-man got angry at your hoof-brother when he wouldn't tell him where I was.

The mare snorted. Tell the stork-man that if he tries to attack my hoof-brother again, I will punish him with hooves and teeth. I'm not going to attack him now, but that's only because you're here.

Daine relayed the mare's message to Numair, whose face was serious. He moved up to the stall door and lay a hand on the latch, though he didn't open it. The mare's ears went back, and she swung her head toward him in a warning bite.

Numair looked back at Daine, and the woman hastily told the horse, Indigo, stop it! I won't let him hurt Stefan!

Indigo lowered her head, though she still looked at Numair with dislike. "Stefan," Numair called softly without entering the stall, "I am sorry about my . . . reaction. I overreacted out of worry for Daine."

The hostler turned to look at them, and Daine was relieved to see that some of the color had returned to his face. "Yer forgiven," he said huskily.

They were silent for a moment, then Numair nodded firmly and turned back to Daine. Placing a hand on her back, he started to lead her out of the stable, but Daine turned back. She looked at Stefan. "Will you be all right?" she said softly.

The hostler nodded. "I've never seen him that angry," he whispered, "Not even when Perin tried to take advantage of ye."

She nodded, and sent a silent goodbye to Indigo. The mare grudgingly answered with her own farewell.

Daine finally turned back to Numair. An arm around her shoulders, they walked out of the large building, Daine calling out leave-takings to the horses. After all of her goodbyes were said, she turned to the thought that was plaguing her mind. _Why is he so tired? _she wondered. She had wanted to confront him about letting her out of the palace, but Daine had seen what a struggle it had been for him to launch even that small bit of magic toward Stefan. She couldn't argue with him now.

As they entered the castle and climbed the stair to their rooms, Daine absently rubbed her belly and looked up at Numair. His profile was haggard, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

They entered their room, and Numair led Daine over to the bed. "Go to sleep," he whispered, not meeting her eyes.

"Numair, what-"

He wouldn't speak to her. "I'll be back in a few hours." He shrugged on a dark over robe and went out the door.

Daine stared after him, bewildered. "What . . ." The word slipped out of her mouth and drifted toward the ceiling. The cats silently berated her for letting the cold in, and she lay down on the bed, sinking into a restless sleep.


	2. Conversations

Chapter Two

Daine drifted up out of sleep, feeling the gentle vibrations of the cats' purrs on her arms. She blinked and looked around the room with blurry eyes. Numair was a blanket-covered lump next to her. For a moment she couldn't remember why that was strange, but finally it came to her.

_So he did come back last night,_ she thought sleepily, _But _where _was he? _She resolved to question him when he woke up.

Daine placed a hand on Numair's shoulder and shook it. "Numair," she whispered, "Numair, wake up!"

But Numair didn't stir. Daine tried several more times to wake him, without success. Finally, she decided to go down and get some breakfast, then come back up to their rooms and see if he was awake. With some difficulty, she managed to boost herself into a sitting position despite the child in her belly.

Daine got to her feet and changed into the special dress that woman in the palace wore when they were pregnant. She would have much preferred to wear breeches and a shirt, but certain conditions with her pregnancy had made her decide that maybe a dress was better.

She started walking toward the door, but suddenly she felt one of those certain conditions starting. Daine quickly dropped to the floor in the middle of the chamber, making sure that she had plenty of room for whatever the baby dished out.

The child in her wound shifted, changing into a baby elephant inside her uterus. Daine quickly shape shifted her body from the waist down into an elephant's back legs and giant gray behind. The floorboards groaned under her weight, and her maternal dress was tearing at the seams.

The baby shape shifted into a baby dolphin, and Daine quickly changed to a mother dolphin, again from the waist down. This was the condition that caused her to wear a dress which kept her legs free to change, instead of the breeches that she normally was garbed in. Daine had no control over when the baby shifted or what it changed into. She was thankful enough that she could sense when the baby was about to change, even if it was only a few seconds before.

The baby, then Daine, changed from dolphin, to giraffe, to okapi, to horse, to porcupine. Animal after animal after animal, Daine shifted less than a second after the baby did. Her maternal dress was beginning to rip as quills punched through it and it was stretched almost beyond its limits.

Finally, it was over. Daine stayed on the floor for a moment longer, to make sure that her child was done. When the baby didn't shift again, Daine grabbed onto the end of her and Numair's bed and hauled herself to her feet. She glanced down at his still form. He was fast asleep.

Daine stared at her love and husband with concern furrowing her brow. Whenever the baby started shape shifting, and Daine was incapacitated, Numair was always at her side, holding her sweaty hand and struggling to stay out of the way of her flailing lower body. But now he hadn't even twitched. What was wrong with him?

Daine stared at him for a while longer. She finally turned away and pulled the tattered remains of her maternal dress over her head. She threw it into the pile of similarly shredded, frayed maternal dresses. After pulling another one over her head and slipping into soft leather slippers, Daine went out the door, three multi-colored cats trailing after her.

Daine made her way through the hallways of the castle. The giant fortress was just waking up, and sleepy servants smiled at Daine as she walked by them. A small group of new pages ran by on their way to the mess hall. As they passed Daine, they stopped, turned, and stared openly at her. She smiled gently at them, used to the awe of the new pages, being the pregnant wife of the greatest mage in all of Tortall.

One page, who looked no older than eight years old, stepped forward and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. "'R you Daine? Th' one married t' Numair?"

Daine nodded, and the little boy's eyes grew wide. Whispers ran through the small group. The first little boy turned and said something to one of his neighbors.

A wave of nausea suddenly overtook Daine, and she swayed on her feet. She always felt sick after her baby shape shifted, but usually Numair was there by her side, holding her in his arms, helping her work through the waves of sickness.

A small girl with hair chopped off at her shoulders stepped forward. She looked just like Lady Sir Keladry of Mindelin, the second lady knight after Lady Alanna. The girl page looked up at Daine with shining eyes. "D' you know the Lioness? An' Lady Kel?"

Daine smiled queasily down at the youngster. She was used to questions like this, and she answered, "Yes."

The girl's eyes widened. "What's the Lioness like? Does Kel-"

"Daine!" A girl's bright voice echoed along the corridor. Daine looked up to see a girl a few years younger than she hurrying along the corridor. The girl's eyes were brown and shining, and she was dressed in a simple blue dress.

"Hello, Lalasa," Daine said weakly to Kel's former servant.

Lalasa came abreast of them. Apparently seeing Daine's exhaustion, she scolded the pages, "Aren't you supposed to be at breakfast instead of bothering Daine? Get on with you!" She fluttered their hands at them, and the pages scattered, still whispering and throwing glances back over their shoulders at Daine.

As the pages scampered off down the hall, Lalasa turned and put an arm around Daine's shoulders. "You all right?" the girl said cheerfully, "How's the baby? Have you had anymore accidents?"

Lalasa was referring to the time that Daine had been in the loft of the stables tending to a raven with a broken wing, and her baby had decided to shape shift into an elephant. The floorboards had broken under her immense weight, and she had crashed down to the floor below. Only by shape shifting into a pregnant hawk and swooping down to the ground had Daine managed to save her own life. But it hadn't come without a price. The change had just encouraged her baby to shape shift even more, and Numair had banished her from not just the hayloft, but all of the stables. The only reason that she hadn't argued was because he looked so tired.

Daine sighed as Lalasa led her along the corridor on the way to the Rider's mess hall. "No, thank the gods," she answered, "But Numair-" She cut herself off. Though she trusted Lalasa, she didn't want news of Numair's fatigue to be spread all over Corus.

"Numair what?" Lalasa looked at Daine with bright eyes. She didn't give the older girl a chance to answer. "Is he worrying about you and the baby? Men. You can't live with them."

Daine sagged in relief. "Yes," she agreed, arguing with her guilty conscience, _Well, it's true!_

They came to the door that would let them out of the castle. Lalasa took her arm away from Daine's shoulders. "I'll have to leave you here. Dresses for the queen and all. Can you make it from here?"

Daine nodded. "Yes, thanks."

Lalasa smiled, then trotted off along the hallway in the direction that they had come. Daine opened the door and stepped into the sunshine. As the light poured down upon her like a rich cloak, she walked along the beaten pathway and up to the two story barracks that housed the Queen's Riders. Daine had been Assistant Horsemistress under Onua, her first friend in Tortall, before she had become Numair's student and for a little bit of time after that.

Daine pushed open the door to the mess and was greeted by a rolling wave of noisy chatter from the trainees and the two Rider groups home on a few days of vacation. Onua caught sight of her former assistant and long time friend and came over. "Hello, Daine," she greeted the tired girl, smiling, "What brings you here? I thought Numair would have balked at the thought of you actually _leaving_ the castle!"

Despite her fatigue, Daine had to smile. "Do you know where Alanna is? I have to talk to her—alone."

"Lucky for you, she's actually here. Jon had to tear her away from George for once to play the court butterfly for a while. You can imagine what reaction he got." Daine grinned. The Lioness's hot temper was famous. "But she's here. You can talk in Buri's office. I'll bring you something to eat."

Daine nodded her thanks and sank into a cushioned chair in Buriram Tourakam's office. She wanted to ask Alanna why Numair might be acting so strangely. A fellow mage and one of Daine and Numair's closest friends, Alanna may know something that Daine didn't. Though why Numair would have told Alanna and not her was beyond Daine.

A few moments later, a Rider came into the office, a tray laden with food in her hands. Daine looked drearily up into the beaming face, and suddenly smiled. The Rider put the tray on Buri's desk and rushed over to Daine, embracing her.

"Miri!" Daine gasped when the female Rider had let go of her. "What are you doing here? I thought you were out roughing up bandits with Evin." Daine had named another one of their Rider friends.

"No, Buri decided that Evin's group could handle the bandits well enough on their own, so she brought us back here. It's so good to see you! How's the baby?"

Daine and Miri chatted as they waited for Alanna, catching up on the news in one another's lives. Finally, the door swung open and the famed Lioness walked in, dressed in a simple shirt and breeches, her customary sword belt slung around her waist.

"Hello, Miri," she nodded to the Rider. "Daine, you wanted to speak with me?"

Miri hastily bowed and excused herself, shutting the door on her way out. Alanna plopped down into a chair and grabbed an apple from the tray of food. She leaned back, tossing the apple from one hand to the other. Smiling at Daine, she asked, "What is it? Is there something wrong with the baby? You wouldn't have wanted to talk with me in here just to say hello."

Hesitantly, Daine explained, "It . . . it's Numair. He's been acting strange lately. It's not just the fact that he confined me to the castle. He leaves in the middle of the night sometimes, and he's always very tired. He won't tell me anything. I was wondering if you might know what's going on."

Alanna took a bite of the apple, looking at Daine out of her sometimes unnerving purple eyes. "I've only been back for two days, but already I've noticed that he's seemed more tired lately. You're sure he hasn't taken on any new projects lately?"

"I'm sure. It's not only that he seems tired, he seems . . . afraid, almost. And not just for me and the baby. I have no idea what's going on."

"Hmm." Alanna swallowed the apple and rested her chin on her hand. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"I tried last night, but he brushed me off and left again. He was back this morning, but . . . I couldn't wake him up, and then my baby decided to start shifting again." Alanna grinned wryly; she had been in the stable when the loft incident had occurred. "I was going to go back and try again after I talked to you."

"Sorry I can't help you any. I'll keep an eye out for anything strange going on. Here." Alanna pushed the tray of food closer to Daine. "Eat, then I'll back with you when you try to talk to him. Maybe I can pry it out of him." Alanna grinned wolfishly.

Daine smiled back, then started eating. They dropped the subject of Numair for a while, talking about Alanna's horse, SilverMoon, the daughter of Darkmoon, her former stallion who was now retired. They also spoke of Alanna's children, Daine's latest exploits with the animals of the castle, and Daine's strange and unique pregnancy.

Finally, the tray was picked clean and Daine was full. Alanna helped her out of the chair, and the two friends went out of the office, through the barracks and the corridors of the castle and back up to Daine and Numair's rooms.

Alanna waited a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall, while Daine tentatively knocked on her door. "Numair?" she called.

No answer.

Daine called again, and when there was no answering shout, she opened the door and walked into the room, afraid of what she would find.

The bed was empty. Numair was gone.

* * *

**A/N: oooh, another cliffy! Sorry guys, they're just so much fine to write! I'll try to update with the next chapter soon . . . thanks to everyone who reviewed! **


	3. Help From a Lioness

Chapter Three

Daine looked wildly around the room, as if Numair was hiding up on the ceiling. She stood in the middle of the floor, her heart numb. After all of his worry for her, all of his loving anxiety for the past few months . . . his absence made a shocked cold spot in her heart. Daine drew a shuddering breath. Where was he? Where?

"Is he awake?" Alanna's voice came in through the open doorway. "Daine-"

Daine slowly turned, to see Alanna framed in the doorway. Apparently something in Daine's face scared her, for Alanna crossed the space within them in two strides. "What is it?"

"He's . . . he's . . ." Daine couldn't get the words out.

Alanna glanced at the bed, and then her eyes shot back to Daine's pale face. "Daine, Daine! It's all right! Maybe he just went to use the privy."

Some of the glaze left Daine's eyes. "The privy . . . yes . . ."

"Right," Alanna whispered soothingly, "Right. Now breathe . . . breathe. Think of meditation. Breathe . . ."

Daine slowly drew a shuddering breath, thinking of all of the meditation sessions that she had done when she had first learned that she had wild magic. Numair . . . had taught her how to meditate.

Daine face crumpled, and she buried her face in Alanna's shoulder, soaking the older woman's shirt with her tears. Alanna held her as Daine sobbed. Thoughts ran through the lady knight's mind, the main one being, _Goddess curse it, where are you, Numair?_

* * *

Numair called upon his Gift again, focusing on the bowl filled with clear water in front of him. He cupped the silver bowl in his big hands, faintly feeling the signs for seeing and the past, present, and future written into it. Numair sent his Gift into the bowl, desperate eyes searching the surface for the image that he wanted. But it would not come. There was nothing, nothing but cloudy fog clogging the surface of the water.

Numair focused again, but all the fog did was get thicker. He cried out in frustration and wanted to throw the bowl across the room, but he knew that it would bring someone running. Unbidden, an image of his magelet surfaced in his mind, and he unwittingly started to scry for her, not caring how low his Gift was.

This time, a clear image appeared in the water. Daine and Alanna were in Numair and Daine's rooms, and Daine was sobbing into Alanna's shoulder. _What . . . Oh, Mithros, please don't let something have happened to Daine!_ Numair stood, knocking over his chair. Leaving the silver bowl on the table, he yanked his over robe on and hurried out of the room, ignoring the exhaustion that was so strong that it pulled on his bones.

* * *

The first thing Alanna saw when she looked up was the reflection in the mirror above Daine and Numair's bed. She could see Numair standing in the doorway, his face gaunt, skin pale, breathing hard from running through the castle, coming from who knew where. His hair tumbled around his face as his eyes met hers in the mirror. Alanna's eyes burned with anger, and Numair's were filled with exhaustion and fear.

Alanna narrowed her eyes as Numair's widened in the mirror. He had caught sight of Daine. Before Alanna could stop him, the Numair in the mirror stepped forward and placed a hand on Daine's head.

The first thing Daine saw when she looked up was her love's haggard face, filled with fear, worry, and exhaustion. Something in her broke, and she sobbed into her hands, shoving past Alanna and fleeing the room.

Alanna turned from Numair in the mirror to look at the real Numair. Her violet eyes crackled with anger as Numair stared at her. "What happened to Daine?" he asked frantically.

"Oh, nothing, just the fact that she thinks that her husband abandoned her!" Alanna snapped. She normally had a pretty good rein on her temper, but when a bewildered look came over Numair's face, Alanna let all of her control disintegrate. "She wakes up wanting to talk to him except for the fact that he won't wake up! So she comes to me asking what's wrong with him and why he won't talk to her and why he is being so protective of her and why his head is filled with clay! And since I don't know anything about anything since I just got here two days ago, we decide to go see if he's awake and to try and pry this secret from him that is making his wife suffer so much! So we come back here and Daine is all good and ready to talk to you but you weren't here! _Why_ weren't you here, Numair? Pig-headed thick-skulled donkey with cotton between his ears-"

Numair's blurry eyes widened as Alanna's rant went on and on. When she had gotten to the first of her insults, he whirled and raced out the door, calling for his wife. Alanna, hands on her hips, cut herself off and sighed.

After a moment of indecision, she took her hands off of her hips and went out the door, vowing to find out what the heck was going on with Numair, and to find out before Daine was driven to do something she would regret.

* * *

Daine ran through the palace with no destination in mind, her stumbling feet carrying her past bent-over servants and chattering pages and nobles. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as Numair's tired face swam in the front of her mind.

Eventually, she found herself racing over mud, and she emerged in a huge building smelling of hay and horses. The stables. The horses' voices clamored in her mind, begging to know what was wrong with their hoof-sister. Ignoring all of them, Daine fumbled her way to Cloud's stall, finding it empty. Too tired to try and find the mare in the fields, Daine fell into the straw, wrapping her hands around her head and sobbing out her misery.

Many minutes later, though to Daine it could have been seconds or years, a soft voice called down the corridor. "Magelet? Daine?"

At Numair's voice, Daine cringed, digging herself deeper into the straw. His footsteps carried him along the aisle, closer and closer to the stall. She prayed as hard as she could that he would go on by, but the footsteps stopped in front of the stall door.

"Daine!" She heard him open the stall door and come across the straw toward her. Even when he knelt down beside her she couldn't look at him. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but when she recoiled at his touch, he pulled away.

"Magelet . . . I'm sorry. I-"

Daine let out a fresh sob as she heard his voice, picturing his face in her mind. This was not her Numair. This was not her Numair.

"Daine-"

A horse's whinny echoed through the stables, and Daine could hear her closest friend's voice in her mind. Cloud galloped down the aisle and shoved past the stall door. Get away from her, stork-man! the mare cried as she pushed her way in between Daine and Numair.

Numair slid away from the mare, then carefully got to his feet. Only then did Daine sneak a look at him. His eyes were locked on the mare, and there was straw on his clothes. "Daine . . ." he whispered, "I love you, Magelet. More than anything . . ." He trailed off, then turned and slowly trudged out of the stables, his shoulders slumped, head down.

Cloud turned and nuzzled Daine's face. Did he hurt you? the mare asked, a trace of anger still in her voice.

No, Daine said silently, no . . . I don't know. She reached out and caressed Cloud's cheek, then slowly got to her feet. The mare helped as best she could.

Daine laid her head in Cloud's thick mane. I don't know what to think any more.

Then don't think, the mare answered. Sleep. Just sleep.

Daine let her hands slid off of her pony's neck as she sank down into the straw. As Daine sank into darkness, Cloud positioned herself over the young girl, standing sentry while she slept.

* * *

Alanna stared earnestly at the man's face etched in the circle of purple fire suspended in mid-air in front of her. His hazel eyes stared back at her just as hungrily. "George, can you?" Alanna asked her baron husband, "Daine is so upset, and Numair won't tell her anything. I can't get anything out of him." The Lioness refused to admit, even to her husband, that she had let her temper get the better of her.

George Cooper nodded, his eyes looking tired but happy at seeing her. "Yes. I'll put one of my spies at tailing him. We'd better tell the king, though: he won't be happy at finding one of his own spies in his court."

"Of course," Alanna answered. Hesitantly, she added, "George . . . is there any way that you could come here to court? I mean, to watch Master Numair, of course. There may be something that you notice that the rest of us miss."

His face softened. "Of course. Jon won't be too happy about it, but . . . if you spin the 'watch Master Numair' card, I'm sure he'd agree."

Alanna smiled, then reached a hand out to gently touch the disk of purple fire. "I miss you," she whispered.

George smiled back. "My Lioness," he said gently, "I have to go. Maude's power is needed to help heal one of the men-at-arms who was wounded in a hunting accident."

Alanna smiled inwardly, thinking of the woman who had helped to raise her and her twin brother, and then her children, and who now held Alanna and her husband in connection by a speaking spell. The Lioness slowly removed her hand from the disk of purple fire and let the spell fade away. As her husband's face blurred and sank into nothingness, she heard eight more words, tenderly spoken, "My spy should come in two days, Alanna."

**A/N: How do you like the third chapter? Is it too cheesy? There is a lot of fluff, that's for sure. About Numair not being himself: that will all be explained in future chapters! I promise. I'll update soon.**


	4. Shifting

Chapter Four

Numair paused at the door into his rooms, resting a shaking hand on the doorframe. He could hear someone moving around in his chambers, and somehow he knew that it was Daine. _Oh, Magelet, Magelet! What have I done to you?_

She had been avoiding him for the last two days, going so far as to sleep in her old room in the Riders' barracks. He had never seen her like this. Since the full story miraculously had not leaked out to the castle gossips, the main rumors were that Daine and Numair had had a simple spat about him being too overbearing about her pregnancy. But Numair knew that it was something worse. He had hurt her; hurt her deep down to the core. The expression on her face in those rare moments that she looked at him wounded him worse than a sword slashing through his gut.

He knew how much he was hurting her, and yet he couldn't do anything to fix it. He had to keep scrying until he found what he was looking for—he _had _to.

Numair was about to go back to his workroom when the door to his chambers opened. He froze. Daine walked out, smoky brown curls tumbling about her pale face, a bundle of her belongings cradled in her arms. _She's moving out . . . leaving me . . ._

He must have made a sound, for she turned and glanced his way. For a moment their eyes met, and the depth of pain in her eyes shocked and scared him. His Magelet whirled and trotted down the corridor as fast as her large bundle would allow.

Numair stared at her retreating figure for what seemed like an eternity, sagging against the wall. Finally, he slowly turned and looked into his rooms. The bedroom looked bare without marks of Daine in it. He stared around the space, numb, not willing to believe that she had left him.

Numair turned and went along the corridor back to his workroom, hoping that scrying would keep his mind off of the tremendous ache in his heart, yet somehow knowing that it wouldn't.

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Alanna trudged over the dusty pathway from the stables to the castle, thumbs hooked over her sword belt. Her short-cropped red hair was brushed back by the breeze, and Alanna bent her head against the wind. She sighed heavily, Daine's pale face etched in her mind. It made her angry that she hadn't been able to help the younger woman for the past two days; the Lioness hated feeling helpless. And she hadn't been able to speak to Numair at all either.

At least George was coming today. Or he was _supposed_ to be. Alanna muttered under her breath in anger at husbands who only arrived when it was almost sunset.

She was almost up to the door into the castle when shouts from the main gate reached her ears. Alanna looked up, shaking hair out of her face, to see two mounted men and a packhorse entering the large courtyard as soldiers hailed them. One was tall and tanned, with bright hazel eyes.

Alanna leapt into a run, her heart singing in joy. They were used to being apart, as she had to go off to war, but to be torn away from him, by the _king_, of all people, had been almost too much for Alanna to bear.

The man caught sight of her, and he quickly dismounted, shoving his horse's reins into a nearby soldier's hands. A few steps more, and Alanna leapt into his arms. The man planted a firm kiss right on her lips, embracing her hard. Alanna's greeting was just as enthusiastic as his.

Finally, they came up for air, to the cheering and whooping of the men-at-arms. Alanna glanced around at their audience, grinning, and then looked into her husband's bright eyes. "Hello, George," she whispered.

Her once-thief husband grinned back. "My Lioness," he said, planting another kiss on her cheek. An arm around her shoulders, he wheeled her around and led her over to the other man, who had dismounted. He watched them approach, holding the reins of both his mount and the packhorse, grinning ear to ear.

"Alanna, this is my man-servant, Olin," George said, as they came to the man's feet. Alanna held out her hand, and the Lioness and the man clasped forearms, as she looked him over. He was taller than she by a few inches, with longer brown hair and clear amber eyes. He had a small nose and a mouth ready to smile. He stood with his feet braced, relaxed, yet Alanna could tell that he had the well-muscled body of a fighter. So this was the man who would be spying on Numair. He had the look of someone who could fade into a crowd at random, a good thing when he would be tailing a mage. Though by Numair's present state, Alanna didn't think that he would notice much of anything.

Olin released Alanna's arm and glanced around the large courtyard. His tawny eyes, though friendly, were cool and calculating. Alanna watched him warily as she reveled in the warmth of George's arms. Though the spy was on their side, Alanna knew that she should watch her back. Out of the whole spy network, she trusted very few people, with George and her adopted father Myles among them. And Daine.

Thinking of the girl who needed her help, Alanna twisted and looked up at her husband, lovingly tracing his features with her eyes. He bent his head and gently kissed her forehead. Alanna slowly closed her eyes as tingles ran through her body, and she felt George's arms tighten around her, drawing her closer. She wanted to bury her head in his chest and take him to their private rooms more than anything, but things needed to be taken care of.

She drew back and looked around at George's small entourage. Hostlers had come forward to take the horses, and George, seeing the direction of Alanna's gaze, waved one of them over. "Put Crescent next to Alanna's horse," he ordered. The hostler nodded and led George's gray gelding away, in the direction of the stables.

George and Alanna looked back at the group of people before them. George said loudly, "You all know where you'll be staying. Go on and settle in. Olin, come with us. You'll be in the room next to ours."

The spy nodded, and, clutching his bundle, followed Alanna and George as they crossed the courtyard. Alanna leaned her head against George's shoulder, all thoughts of Daine flowing out of her mind—for the moment, at least—as she felt her husband's loving warmth surround her.

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Numair slowly opened the door to the dark room. The only light came from the soft glowing of the scrying bowl sitting on the table in the middle. Numair, seeing that the water was clear, hurriedly shut the door and rushed over to the table. Not bothering to sit down, he wrapped his large hands around the bowl's silver-engraved sides and threw his Gift into the bowl, frantically searching with his mind for the image he wanted.

But silvery fog flooded the bowl, blocking out any glimpse of anything that made sense. Bright alien anger flooded his veins, blazing deep inside of him. Numair opened his mouth and screamed, a screeching wail that spiraled up into the yawning recesses of the room. He thrust his arm up, fingers spread, and let loose a bright lightning bolt of black and white magic that shrieked as it burned the air around him. The bolt seared up toward the ceiling, spinning out of control and spiraling back down to strike the swirling design of white sand spread on the cold stone floor. The crackling magic bled into the design, disappearing and wrenching at the core of Numair's soul, as if it was trying to suck his life out. But the mage didn't notice.

He collapsed against the table, his face contorting as he fought the fog overtaking his mind, blotting out all reasonable thought. Numair called up his Gift, and with alarm he sensed that it was in turmoil. There was barely any of it left. Vaguely he knew that he should stop doing magic for a while and let himself recuperate, but he couldn't stop scrying. _He had to see_. The fog sunk deep down inside of him, and Numair felt himself grow numb. It crept toward his center, where his Gift lived. Where Daine had a copper spring, Numair had a roaring river of black and silver, deep and strong and wild. But now it had drained down to nothing but a tiny trickle. A voice chimed from somewhere deep inside of Numair, and he knew that if the fog got to the river, he would die. Numbness spread through his body. He couldn't feel his legs or the floor beneath his feet. It spread up past his waist, and Numair began to panic.

Desperately, he groped for the jewelry hanging from his wrist. His shaking fingers wrapped around the round locket, and he hurriedly unclipped it and flipped it open. His dazed eyes lit on the portrait of his Magelet when she was sixteen. _Magelet . . . Daine, Daine . . . I love you . . . Daine . . ._ He stroked the soft lock of her hair with his thumb, remembering how she looked at him when he tangled his fingers in her hair and her in his as they surged on waves of passion. The feeling of her lips, her caress, burst into his mind. _DAINE! Magelet, please . . . I can't lose you . . . I have to live . . . _

The fog slowly left his mind as he filled it with his burning thoughts of Daine, Daine . . . and their baby. Warmth flooded his body, burning in his veins. As soon as he had enough feeling back in his body to walk, Numair staggered to the door, wrenching it open and flying through, slamming it shut behind him. He fled, racing past the houses of the long-gone dead, rushing to get back to the sunlight, back to the open air, back to his Magelet, his Daine.

He stumbled through the corridors, clutching the locket in his hand. Finally, just before the corridor leading to their rooms, Numair stopped. All of the fog was gone. He shakily clipped the locket back onto the golden chain around his wrist and turned the corner, breathing deeply to compose himself. He entered his rooms and shut the door. As soon as it was locked, Numair threw himself on the bed, burying his head in his arms.

He hadn't noticed the dark shadow following him, peeling itself away from a dark crevice as the mage turned the corner. The figure watched him enter the room, and for a moment it stared at the closed door, then turned and went along the corridor, toward a certain jubilant couple's rooms.

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Alanna buried her head in George's shoulder. He gently pushed her away, laughing. Alanna sighed, letting her eyes rove over him. The white sheets were wound around his lower body, and her gaze traveled up from the rumpled sheets, over his naked chest, and up to his laughing eyes. Her heart quivered with raging desire. Unable to keep it back any longer, she threw herself forward and hungrily pressed her lips to his. George groaned and dove into the hot sweetness of her mouth, half-rolling and pushing her down into the mattress, his hands exploring her curving naked body, caressing her in places that set her heart blazing. Alanna, fire coursing through her veins, arched her back, pressing her hot body to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him to her.

He pulled back, his eyes blazing with hot passion. She moaned, and he leaned forward and whispered gently in her ear, "Alanna. Lioness. I love you." His breath ran over the side of her face, sending hot tingles racing over her blazing skin.

"Oh, _George_." His face hovered barely half an inch above hers, the look in his eyes making her heart pound. She lifted her head and kissed him, her lips begging.

He pulled back again, but she kept her arms clasped around his neck.

"George, _I love you_," she whispered heatedly.

He groaned and half-rolled, straddling her hot body. "My Lioness . . ." He pressed his mouth to hers, his hands gloriously running over her burning skin. Alanna closed her eyes and let herself go, surging on waves of hot passion with the man she loved with her whole heart.

A sudden knock on the door brought them both back to cold, stark reality. George wrenched himself back and rolled out of bed, diving for his breeches. Alanna did the same, hurriedly yanking her shirt over her head and pulling on her breeches, stuffing her feet into her boots. "Come in!" she called, frantically trying to flatten her tousled hair.

"No!" George cried, but the door was already opening. Olin stepped into the room, his gaze landing immediately on George, who was struggling to pull his shirt on while at the same time groping for his boots. Alanna ran to her husband's aid while Olin politely averted his gaze. Alanna pulled the shirt down over George's head. As he flailed, his hand brushed her chest, and Alanna inadvertently trembled. George's gaze met hers, and the longing in his eyes matched the burning in hers.

She looked away as he tugged his boots on. The Lioness went over and sat in a chair by the window, keeping her gaze away from the bed. George pulled himself together, grabbed a chair, and dragged it over beside Alanna. He sat, his knee resting against hers, and finally looked at Olin.

The spy's sharp eyes had been roving over the rumpled bed sheets, but when George cleared his throat, Olin turned back and looked at the former king of thieves, a calm mask drawn over his face. Alanna took a deep breath and steadied herself, trying to ignore the fact that the touch of George's knee was making her heart tremble with longing. She gazed at the spy curiously; could he have gotten something on Numair so soon? He had only been in the castle for a few hours at the most.

"What did you see, Olin?" George asked quietly, "Here, sit down."

Olin plopped down in the chair that George had pulled over for him. "It took me a while to find Master Salmalín. He wasn't in his rooms, or in his workroom, or in the stables, or in Mistress Daine's rooms."

_Not that we expected him to be_, Alanna thought ruefully, resting her chin on her fist.

"After a bit, I decided to go back to his rooms, to search-"

"Oh, Goddess! Hold on," Alanna cut in sharply, angry with herself for being so stupid. She waved her hand around the room. Sheets of purple light stretched out in the corners and over the doors and windows. The magic would keep them from being overheard. "Go on."

Olin glanced around at the sheets of magic. Giving a tiny shrug, he continued, "I went back to search Master Numair's rooms. I was waiting to make sure that no one was coming by when he came bursting around the corner. I saw him clip something in his hand to something else on his wrist, and then he went into his room and slammed the door. The corridor he came out of was the one leading down into the underground of the castle."

Alanna's brows drew together. "Was he pale? Did he look frantic, or anything?"

Olin's eyes met hers. "He looked pale and shaky, like something had been chasing him."

She leaned back in her chair, thinking hard. _Why would he be down in the underground rooms? There's the workrooms, the storerooms, the dungeons, the tombs . . . maybe he's started a new project? Because he didn't feel like his workroom was private enough?_ But Numair wouldn't try to keep that a secret from her, must less Daine. _Unless it's something we would disapprove of . . . but Numair wouldn't do something like that. _Unbidden, a thought of the necromancer from Galla who had been working for the Scanrans burst into her mind. Numair had been the main one to analyze the monsters they had caught . . . _but Numair wouldn't try to recreate those monsters . . . I hope . . . _

Alanna suddenly glanced up, aware of the two men's eyes on her. George's eyes were curious and slightly concerned. He took her hand. "Darlin', what do you think?"

She answered slowly, "I . . . don't know, George. But I don't think we should tell Daine yet."

George Cooper nodded. He turned to Olin. "Keep watching his rooms. Follow him wherever he goes, and if it's anywhere beyond where we told you, come immediately-"

"To you. I know, George."

George's eyes crinkled a bit, though his face was serious. "Good. You c'n go, Olin. Good work."

The spy nodded, got up and went out the door. As soon as it closed, George looked back at Alanna, and his face changed entirely. "Now, darlin', let's spend some time together afore that king of yours decides he needs us."

Grinning, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her. Burning heat raced from his lips through her body, which had been longing for his touch for so long. They fell back onto the bed, their hands scrambling at the other's clothing. For the next few moments, Alanna let her worries slip away and gave herself fully over to the man she loved most in the whole world.

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Daine lay limp in the straw, her hands curled around her belly. Cloud stood a few feet away, munching at her hay on the floor. Daine felt empty, wrung out, like an old dusty rag.

Cloud, why would he do that? she asked her mare for the thousandth time.

Cloud wanted to sigh and to tell Daine to let her alone to finish her hay. But the horse knew that Daine needed her right now, so she didn't tell Daine off. Though she did want to tell the stork-man a thing or two, mainly about respect. I don't know, came the mare's reply.

Daine shoved her face into the straw, the heavy cloud of her despair surrounding her heart in its icy clutches. She wanted to find Numair and shake him, shake him so bad that he _had _to tell her what was wrong.

She slowly got to her feet, bracing herself against the wooden wall for support.

Where are you going? asked Cloud, looking at her with pricked ears.

I have to find Numair, Daine answered, a desperate look in her eyes. I have to find him and make him tell me . . .

She rushed out of the stall. Cloud stared after her and started to follow, but in her despair, Daine had slammed the stall door shut. There was a new lock on it that the mare didn't know how to open. Cloud sighed, then turned and kept eating her hay, trusting Daine to take care of herself.

Daine raced out of the stables and across the courtyard, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her as she rushed into the castle. She flew through the corridors and up toward Numair's rooms—what had once been _their _rooms. When she got to the door, Daine froze, her heart suddenly stopping, hand held halfway up to knock on the door. _What am I _doing

_He betrayed me. _

_He hates me, and I have no idea why. What did I do to him? Is it me? Is it the baby? Oh, Nuummaaiiirrrr . . . _

Her thoughts built into a screeching scream of despair in her head, and Daine sank to the floor as hopelessness sunk its icy claws into her exhausted heart. She leaned heavily against the wall, legs tucked underneath her, head bent, brown curls tumbling around her face, arms wrapped around her heaving chest as she sobbed quietly. _Numair . . . Numair . . . Numair . . ._

_Oh, Numair, why?_

Something moved inside of her. Daine froze, drawing in her breath in a heaving gasp. _The baby. It's shifting!_

Frantically, Daine shoved herself away from the wall, stretching out on the ground as the baby leapt into the shape of a wolf puppy. Daine dove after it, only getting a moment's breather before the baby shifted again. An octopus . . . _that's a new one . . ._

Rubbery, soft tentacles burst from Daine's lower half, but the baby was already shifting again.

It leapt from form to form, giving Daine hardly a second to change before it was whirling off into a new form. From giraffe to llama to squirrel to opossum to polar bear to whale to salamander the baby shifted, with Daine stirring up her magic in a fury to keep up with it. There was no respite, no rest between shifting. It was all the exhausted Daine could do to keep up.

_Crawdad, lion, bear, snake, raccoon, elephant, emu, donkey, pig, capybara_ . . . Raw, bloody scratches tore across her legs as the force and speed of the shifting send her body scraping painfully across the cold stone floor. But Daine didn't notice. Darkness was intruding at the edges of her blurry vision, and it was all she could do to hold onto consciousness. If it didn't stop soon, the blackness would overtake her . . . but Daine couldn't think of that. She had to keep shifting. She _had _to.

If she stopped, the baby would die.

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Numair cradled his head in his hands, his tattered robes spread across the bedspread. He had once shared this bed with Daine . . . _ahh! Daine, Daine . . . I'm so sorry. _If only he could tell her. If only he could tell her what he was doing, why he kept sneaking off. _But I can't. She wouldn't understand. She'd think I'm shirking my duty to her . . ._

_Duty has nothing to do with it! I love her. I want to tell her. But if I have to leave . . . if I have to go to her, my . . ._

Numair froze, his sharp ears picking up on a sound. There was a scraping coming from the other side of the door. Numair slowly rose off of the bed, struggling to make as little sound as possible. His dark green robes fell back down to hang around his knees as he strode angrily across the room. Black and silver fire flickered around one hand as he reached out with his other and opened the door, bracing himself for whatever was on the other side.

He wrenched open the door. His eyes landed on the wall across the corridor. No one was there . . . the thrashing sound came from his left, right beside the door. He glanced down.

"_Daine!_"

Numair fell to his knees beside her sweat soaked body. Her eyes were glassy, focused inward on some inner turmoil as her lower body flashed from shape to shape, barely holding one before going on to the next. Blood flowed freely from deep scrapes no matter what shape she held, and they were steadily growing longer as she changed.

_What . . . the baby! _He reached down and gripped her sweaty hand in his. _No, no, no! What do I do . . ._ His eyes lit. He reached out and lay a hand on her lower body, which was now in the shape of a plump fish. Numair sent the spell shooting straight to Daine's core, straight to where the baby forced her through the torturing changes.

Their baby fell into a deep sleep, resuming human form. Daine's legs reappeared, and she lay still on the floor, her body limp and wet and bloody. He held her hand tight, gently brushing her hair away from her beloved face. _It's been so long since I touched her, too long . . ._

Her eyes grew brighter. Her gaze flicked around the corridor, finally flying up to land on his face. His heart hammered in his chest as he heard her whisper, "Numair . . ."

He stared down at her, eyes wide. _Don't hate me . . . please don't hate me . . ._

She let out a sob and wrenched herself up to him; Numair instinctively wrapped his arms around her. _Daine, Daine! _She clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder as he clutched her close, stroking her hair, reveling in her warmth.


End file.
